All Rise...

The Charge

From the age of magnificence comes a new magnificence in motion pictures!

Opening Statement

"We are harlots always peddling beauty at the doorsteps of the
mighty."

Facts of the Case

Our story begins in 16th Century France. Respected artist Michelangelo
Buonarroti (Charlton Heston, Planet of
the Apes) has been tasked with building a lavish tomb in Rome for Pope
Julius II (Rex Harrison, My Fair
Lady). However, the Pope soon hands Michelangelo an alternate task: painting
a portrait of Christ's twelve apostles on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
Michelangelo begins the task, but eventually grows unhappy with his work,
destroys it and runs off to the mountains to seek inspiration. When he returns,
he proposes a grander, more challenging project: a large-scale religious
painting that will cover the entire ceiling rather than just a portion of it.
The Pope reluctantly agrees, and Michelangelo begins his work. However, a
combination of health problems, the physical strain of the work and struggles
with artistic inspiration frequently prevent the artist from working at a
greater speed. Will Michelangelo ever finish his sprawling project?

The Evidence

Hollywood has always had a penchant for lavish historical epics, but it could
certainly be argued that the genre reached its peak in the 1960s. The decade was
flooded with massive, preposterously expensive films marked by dazzling
production design, indulgent running times and a general sense of large-scale
pageantry. Alas, audiences finally began growing weary of such bloated
productions, as an increasingly large number of these films failed to recoup
their considerable budgets. In retrospect, it's easy to see how the major studio
tentpoles of the '60s gave way to the leaner, scrappier productions of the '70s.
While some historical epics of the era were indeed guilty of being too long and
too dull, other large-scale flops were rather undeserving of their tragic box
office fate. One of these was Carol Reed's The Agony and the Ecstasy, a
compelling (if needlessly expensive) examination of Michelangelo's work on the
Sistine Chapel.

At its core, the story being told here is an intimate, two-character affair.
It's about the contentious relationship between a temperamental artist and a
pompous religious leader—their initial conflicts, their grudging respect
for each other and their eventual friendship. While the film's impressive set
design is really appreciated, I'm not sure audiences particularly needed stuff
like the big battle scene that takes place during the first act (Julius II was
Pope during an era in which Popes also functioned as military leaders). This is
a small film posing as a big one, and perhaps the massive financial losses it
suffered (it only made back 1/5th of its $10 million budget) would have been
lessened if Reed and co. had reduced the scale a bit.

Still, the film's financial woes are a problem of the past. In the present,
we're left with a fairly entertaining movie, which is surprising given that it
devotes a decent portion of its running time to scenes of Charlton Heston
painting. The actor brings a surprising physicality to the role of Michelangelo,
emphasizing the idea that the painting of the Sistine Chapel was an
extraordinary physical struggle as well as an artistic one. The character might
not be particularly relatable (he spends most of his time scowling and fretting
about his artistic vision), but Heston's earthy masculinity somehow manages to
make the perpetually agitated character more grounded. On the flip side, Rex
Harrison easily captures the Pope's no-nonsense candor, brisk charm and
self-importance—it's the sort of role he could play in his sleep, but it's
still a pleasure to watch him play it. The two generate an appealing odd couple
chemistry, which isn't a million miles away from the sort of push/pull
relationship Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole offered the previous year in
Becket.

Oddly, the movie opens with a 12-minute documentary prologue, which offers a
brief history of Michelangelo's life. It's an unusual choice, but a good one: it
allows rest of the movie to focus specifically on the Sistine Chapel without
needing to find some forced method of referencing the artist's other great
works. Plus, the prologue is accompanied by a gorgeous piece of original music
penned by a young Jerry Goldsmith. The ever-underrated Alex North provides the
score for the rest of the film, and it's arguably one of the composer's finest
works—rich, melodic, nuanced material that veers back and forth between
the two emotions referenced in the film's title. Add in the impressive costumes,
sets and works of art, and you've got a movie that is always a pleasure to look
at and listen to even when the story starts meandering.

The Agony and the Ecstasy (Blu-ray) has received an exceptional
1080p/2.20:1 transfer that does a superb job of highlighting the film's rich
visual design. Colors are bright and vibrant, flesh tones are natural, detail is
tremendous throughout and blacks are deep. Just beautiful. The DTS HD 5.1 Master
Audio track is similarly impressive, with the Goldsmith/North music always
sounding crisp and full. Dialogue is a little muffled on occasion, and there's
an odd echo effect during one early scene, but otherwise I have no complaints.
Sadly, supplements are limited to a pair of trailers for the film.

Closing Statement

The Agony and the Ecstasy may have flopped at the box office, but it's
an above-average historical epic that offers a satisfying blend of sturdy
acting, engaging storytelling and considerable technical virtues.
Recommended.

The Verdict

Not guilty.

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